So Abnormal It Has To Be Real
by Almarea-and-Alasse
Summary: Wait a second...GLORFINDEL is in my ROOM? Oh no, oh no, omigodomigodomigod don't let him read the fanfics... Too late! Crap! I am DEAD!
1. Default Chapter

At some point in time, at some point on the surface of the Planet Earth, in a certain insignificant house located in the area of that point, in a room on the second floor of that house, in a chair

Well, you get the picture. In any case, there was a girl slouching in that chair, facing an ancient Macintosh Performa 475 with a 256 color monitor and System 7.6.1 running on it. She wasn't particularly beautiful (or at least she didn't think so, despite having been told so by some friends and a couple of ratfink jerks), except when she was feeling exceptionally pleased with herself; the only part of her that she thought was beautiful was her thick auburn hair, and she had just chopped a foot off of that. She did like her eyes and eyebrows, though, for being (the former) greeny-grey, a very romantic and sexy color, she thought, and (the latter) perfectly shaped _without_ plucking. And she absolutely _hated_ her braces, which were painful and made her look like she was in 7th grade if she opened her mouth.

Anyway, this girl (her name was Isis, because her hippie parents had thought it was a cool name) lived with her now-ex-hippie parents, and her little sister and brother. She fought with them a lot, but only about their going into her room without knocking, or about talking back, or things like that. She had her own computer, and her dad let her listen to her progressive rock music as loud as she wanted, because he liked it. She had her own room, too, and an A/C, andÉoh, yeah. Two feet of _Lord of the Rings_ books, the soundtracks to all three movies, a poster of Legolas, a poster of Aragorn, a Sindarin course, a Quenya course, two LotR-based fanfictions on , and thirty-two LotR icons for the Macintosh. All in all, a pretty normal lifestyle for a 16-year-old rabid fangirl.

All of which was about to change—drastically.

At the moment, though, she was trying to write a fanfic. She was pouting a little, because the story wasn't behaving properly, and the characters weren't cooperating. She looked around a little, then took a swig from her water-bottle and put it down in disgust.

"Damned Boston tap water," she muttered. "Put it through a filter and it still tastes like crap." She leaned back in her chair. "I wish I could talk to somebody," she complained to the ceiling. "Somebody–" she stopped, as though embarassed at saying it to no one in particular. "somebody–someone from LotR," and she swung back abruptly to face the computer. "Not like that's ever going to happen." She snorted and started to type.

"Is she awake?"

"No, shut up."

"Can I wake her up?"

"No."

Silence.

"Merry?"

"_What_, Pippin?"

"I'm hungry."

"So'm I."

"Can we ask her where the kitchen is?"

"No. She's still asleep."

"Can I go and find the kitchen?"

Sigh "Yes, Pippin. Honestly, talk about havin' people of intelligence in the party."

"What, me?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just go and find the kitchen."

"All right."

Silence.

"I'm back, Merry!"

"SHHH!"

"Oops, sorry. I'm back. Look what I found! Ham, cheese, bacon, eggs, bread, butter, jam—"

"Pippin!"

"What? Don't yell at me, Merry, keep your voice down!"

"You completely raided their bloody pantry, didn't you?"

"No, of course not. All the food in thereÉthey must eat even more than we do."

"MmmÉ" Grunt

"What was that?"

"She's waking up!"

"Wait, Pippin, don't drop the food!"

"You hold it!"

"No, you! You brought it down—"

"Tha•s, go away, I'm trying to sleepÉ"

"Who's Tha•s?"

"Blimey if I know."

Grunt

"She's openin' her eyes!"

"Leave her alone, Pippin, you're actin' like you've never seen a girl before."

"'Course I have."

"Then let her sleep!"

"I'm not asleep anymore."

"Merry, her eyes are shut."

"Shut up, Pippin."

Isis cracked one eye open, then quickly closed it and rubbed her eyes hard. She opened the other eye. "What the hell—"

"Good mornin'," said the small figure sitting on the bed next to her. "I thought you'd _never_ wake up."

"Shut up, Pippin," said the other small figure, who was sitting at the foot of the bed. "Let her wake up slow."

"No, no," Isis said, pulling herself up into a sitting position. "I'm fully awake. It's okay." She stared at the two. "Whoa. Maybe I'm not awake yet. Maybe I'm still dreaming."

Pippin looked at Merry. "Are we a dream?"

Merry shook his head. "Of course not."

"I didn't think so."

Isis leaned back against her pillows and continued staring. "How–how many more of you are there?" she asked.

"What, hobbits?"

"Don't be an ass, Pippin. She means of the Fellowship."

"Yeah. That's what I meant." Isis ran her fingers through her shoulder-length red hair.

"Well, let's see," Pippin said, thinking. "There's Boromir, he's upstairs on the sofa."

"Okay."

"And then there's Strider, on the parlor floor."

"It's a living room," Isis corrected.

"Right. The living room floor. And also Lord Glorfindel–he's upstairs in the kitchen, doing the dishes."

"Lord Glorfindel?"

"Yes, he's upstairs doing the dishes."

"Lord Glorfindel is what?"

"He's doing the dishes."

"He's what?"

"Merry, I think she's deaf."

"No, I'm not. I just can't believe my ears. He's doing _what?!?_"

"He's doing the dishes."

"Ah, okay," the girl said, settling back on her pillows with relief. "I thought you said he was doing the dishes."

"I did–"

"Shut up, Pippin," Merry and Isis chorused.

"All right," she said, putting her hands up in defeat. "Okay. Okay. I get it. I'm just hallucinating. I mean, why else would I be sitting here, arguing with Merry and Pippin, who just _happen _to be two of my favorite characters in LotR, about whether or not an Elf Lord is washing dishes in my kitchen? No. That's not right. I can't be hallucinating. That idea is so abnormal it's gotta be real. Okay. So this really is happening to me. No way. No. Way. NFW. This is _so_ not happening to me right now. I'd better call Sasha. What time is it?"

Pippin looked at the clock on her desk. "Eight-thirty."

"She'll understand." She threw back the covers and started getting out of bed. "What?"

"Nice trousers," Pippin commented, staring at her legs.

"Pippin!" Merry said, also staring.

"What?" She looked down at her boxer shorts. "Oh my god." She jumped back in bed and threw the covers back over her legs. "Pippin," Isis said sweetly, "would you mind terribly if I asked you to go and get the cordless 'phone from my parents' room? _Without_ being seen?"

Pippin looked at her quizzically. "'Phone?"

The girl groaned. "Never mind. Just get me those pants over on that shelf, will you?" As she struggled out of her pajama shorts and into her jeans under the covers, she continued talking. "It's a good thing–" tug "–you got here after–" tug "–my dad–" jerk "–left for work. Phew, that was a pain," she commented, throwing the covers off and standing up, towering over the hobbits at 5'5". "I don't know why I didn't just send you out of the room so I could get dressed." She opened the door of the room and stopped as a thought struck her. "Oh, crap. If my sister goes upstairs, she's going to find the guys—you'd better go up and bring 'em down. And y'all have to stay here, in this room. If a little girl comes in, you're all to hide, understood?"

Isis tiptoed out of her room, closed the door quietly, and tiptoed round the corner to her parents' room. Thank God my dad left for work early this morning, she thought. Who knows what he'd have done if he'd found half the Fellowship in my room at this hour

"Hi, m‹e," she said cheerily as she entered the bedroom, seeing that her mother was already awake and drinking coffee. Tha•s and Tycho, her sister and brother, were both still sleeping. "Oh thank God, they're asleep. Listen, mama," plopping onto the bed facing her mother, "I have a problem."

"Isis, it's too early for problems. Let me drink my coffee and then–"

"No, mam‹e, seriously, I need to talk to you before Tha•s wakes up."

Her mother sighed. "What is it?"

"Don't laugh."

"I won't."

"I have Merry and Pippin in my room."

"Who?"

Isis groaned. "Come on, m‹e. You know, Lord of the Rings? Hobbits? Obsession?"

"Oh. Well, it's a good thing you cleaned your room the other day."

"Motherrrr!"

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

"What do I do?"

"Offer them some coffee, maybe." Her mother took a sip of her own. "Or some breakfast, if they want it."

"Pippin had already raided the refridgerator by the time they woke me up."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. There's an entire carton of eggs sitting on my desk."

"Well, you tell them to put the food away now! No, no arguments." Her mother held up a hand. "Now."

"But you didn't let me finish," Isis objected.

"Why? Does it get worse?"

"Ohhh yeah."

"Isis, the suspense is killing me."

Isis giggled, then sobered up at the thought of what–or who–stood upstairs at the kitchen sink. "Well, Boromir's sleeping on the couch upstairs, and Aragorn is on the living room floor, and–" she paused, still not believing what she was about to say– "Glorfindel is washing the dishes."

"Who?"

"Yeah, I know. That's what I said when I heard. I said, Glorfindel is washing the dishes."

"Who's Glorfindel?"

Isis groaned again. "He's the Elf-lord who's rescues Frodo, and brings him back to Rivendell, instead of stupid Arwen." She wrinkled her nose. "I've told you this a zillion times, mama. Everytime I tell you about how hot Glorfindel is."

"So isn't it good that he's here? I mean, if you like him so much, you could go and tell him to stop washing your dishes."

"Motherrrr!"

"I'm sorry, Isis. That's how my mind works. I'm a mother."

"It's totally uncomfortable and awkward! What am I going to say to him? 'Uh, hi, I wrote a story once where I married you and we had two kids.'" They both laughed. "Seriously, m‹e, I actually only came in here to get the cordless. I need to call Sasha."

"So early? It's only 8:45."

"She'll understand. Thanks, ma." Isis grabbed the phone and dashed back to her room. "Okay," Isis announced as she entered. "I've got the 'phone, so now I can call Sasha and–oh. Whoa."

The room was extremely crowded; the two hobbits were sitting at the foot of her bed, reading _The Hobbit_ and looking immensely pleased with themselves; a tall Man was sprawled on the bed as well, reading Isis's dog-eared copy of _The Return of the King_; another tall Man was sitting in Isis's chair, reading something on the computer; and an even taller, very handsome blond male was standing over her piano, examining it with his long fingers.

Isis just stood in the doorway and screamed.


	2. Chapter 02

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, because Saul Zaentz owns Tolkien Enterprises (says so on my Legolas poster–ruins the effect, in my opinion, but anyway) and I think it's very unfair that people are still being owned, even 200-odd years after the Emancipation Proclamation. Right. So. I don't own any of these characters, except those that you don't recognize from the books, and Sasha and Isis are real people, as are their family members, so I don't own those, either. However, it is necessary for me to acknowledge the great help which my mother has given me in these two chapters—that conversation in the last chapter between me and my mum is quoted verbatum from a conversation I had with her when I was running low on ideas about my reactions to Merry and Pippin.

Author's Note: Thank you to Jadefire5 & Charlie, who reviewed so nicely the last chapter. Here's the new one, hope you like it, and tell other people to read it too, because I love reviews. Mwah mwah to you both. Oh, and by the way, please read my epilogue: , because I am so proud of it and I really want to know what people think. Coming up soon: One Shadow, which is an Éomer/OFC vignette. I'm really proud of it, too. Thanks again for reviewing! Love, Isis

Chapter 2

Reactions

"Oh. My. GOD." Isis screamed. "No way. Omigod. Omigodomigodomigod. This isn't happening. I just know it isn't. I gotta sit down. No, wait. I gotta call Sasha. I'll be back in a minute."

She jerked the door open again, left the room, slammed the door shut, and sat down hard on the stairs. "Normal breaths," she told herself. "Breathe properly. Don't hyperventilate. Don't breathe deeply. In, out. In, out. In, out. It's okay. It's just the hottest guy on the planet is in your room, messing with your piano. It's just another hot guy is reading _The Return of the King_, which happens to be about himself. It's just—" She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Okay, I'm calmed down now," she said aloud. "Now I am going to call Sasha, and I am _not_ going to scream at her over the 'phone." She took another deep breath, held the cordless up in front of her, and was about to dial Sasha's number when the door to her left opened, and a sleepy seven-year-old brunette head poked out.

"What's goin' on?" Thaïs asked. "Why're you screaming? You woke me up."

"Sorry," Isis said insincerely. "Didn't mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep."

"'Kay." The head withdrew, and Isis could hear the squeak of springs as her sister went back to bed.

"Okay then." Beep boop boop bip beep boop bip. Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Isis?"

"Sasha. Omigod. I have–"

"Half the Fellowship in your room. I know. So do I."

"You–"

"Yeah. I woke up, and Sam was standing over me with bacon and eggs."

"Awww, that's so cute. Merry and Pippin woke me up by fighting over who was going to hold the food that Pippin got when he raided the refridgerator."

Sasha winced audibly.

"Yeah. Who've you got?"

"Um…Gandalf, Frodo, Sam, Gimli, and um...Legolas."

"That's nothing, baby," Isis retorted. "Glorfindel is right now fiddling with my piano. He just came downstairs from _washing the dishes_."

"Wow. That's like a dream come true for you, isn't it."

"Uh, yeah. I walked into my room and saw him there. Aragorn's reading _Return of the King_, and Boromir's messing with the computer."

"How'd he turn it on?"

"Damned if I know. What do I _do_, Sasha?"

"Go in and say hi."

"You're worse than my mother. She said, 'Well, it's good you cleaned your room, then, isn't it.'"

"She's right, you know."

"Oh, shut up."

Silence.

"You know something, Isis?"

"What?"

"I wouldn't leave them alone with the computer. What if they get their hands on the fanfic?"

Silence.

"Isis?"

"Oh my god. I hadn't thought of that. I gotta go. Have fun with Leggy-lou-lou."

Both girls laughed, and Isis hung up. "Breathe," she ordered herself. Then she stalked the two paces to the door, and opened it.

She smiled shakily. "Um, hi. I'm Isis. This is my room." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and bit her lip. "Um. I'm sorry I screamed. I guess I freaked you out a bit. Not a very good first impression. I was just surprised and, um, just, I, I didn't expect to see you all here."

The Man on her bed swung his long legs onto the floor and stood up. "Your apology is accepted. I am Aragorn, Arathorn's son of the Dœnedain." He bowed, leaving Isis feeling rather stupid with her hand sticking out for a handshake.

"And I am Boromir of Gondor," said the other Man, getting out of her chair. Before she could react, he had taken her still-outstretched hand and bowed over it. "I, too, accept your apology, Lady—"

Isis took her hand back hastily. "Isis," she said firmly. "Not lady. Just plain Isis."

The hot blond male straightened up from the piano, his lips curving in an amused smile as he clasped her hand. His hand was warm and calloused.

"Y-you're Glorfindel," she said shakily. "Y-you're not what I expected." And immediately she snatched her hand away and clapped it over her mouth. "Oh no," she stammered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I'm really sorry, I just–"

The Elf-lord raised a hand to stop her chatter, still smiling. "It's all right. What did you expect?"

"I'm not sure," Isis said miserably. Then she remembered her manners. "_Elen síla lumenn omentielmo, hernín Glorfindel_–though it's morning."

"Very good," said Glorfindel. "Can you actually speak the Old Tongue?"

Isis smiled crookedly. "Nah. I never got past _I aran úmëa mapane i osto vanya_."

"Your pronunciation is good," Aragorn commented, "but there's no emphasis in your speech."

"Yeah. That's—"

"What's _i aran–_whatever you said?" Pippin interrupted.

"Pippin–" Isis looked down at Pippin, about to tell him to shut up, but she couldn't find it in her heart to do it. He was too cute. Cute-cute, she thought, not _cute-cute_. "It means, 'the evil king seized the beautiful city.' What I meant was, I never learned enough Elvish to be able to have a normal conversation...as opposed to a conversation that's going on with an idiot while evil kings seize beautiful cities."

Merry and Pippin both laughed, and Aragorn smiled at her joke. "If you wished it," he said, sitting back down on the bed, "I could continue your education. Though perhaps 'twould be better if the Elf taught you. The tongue comes naturally to him, not to me, who was raised in that tongue but is not of that people."

"Um," Isis said. "Thank you. I'd—I'd love to. Thank you—" she stopped. What was she supposed to call him? Boromir was closest; she tugged at his sleeve. "_What do I call him_?" she hissed.

Boromir shrugged. "My lord, lord Aragorn, sir...any of those will do," he said quietly, supressing a smile at her frantic tone.

"Yeah," Isis said, turning back to Aragorn, who was watching her with question marks written all over his face. "Thank you, my lord. I would really like that."

"Well," said Pippin brightly, "now what? I'm hungry."

"I know," Isis smirked. "You woke me up this morning to tell Merry that."

Pippin hadn't the sense to look abashed. "Well, you're awake now," he said, "so you can do something about it."

Isis rolled her eyes. "Well, I can't right now, because my sister is still in the house. So we may as well hang out in here while we wait." She plopped herelf down on her bed at the other end from Aragorn, and watched as he picked up the book and began reading again.

None of them looked like they did in the movies; Aragorn's nose was longer and slightly crooked, and his eyes were dark instead of blue. He didn't have that stupid bauble of Arwen's bouncing around his neck, either. Boromir's hair was dark, also, and his eyes were grey. His face was more noble and proud than Sean Bean's in the movie. Merry and Pippin were shorter than their film counterparts, though Pippin was slightly taller and slimmer than his cousin. Basically, Isis thought, they just don't _look_ like the people who played them. What a big surprise.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Boromir's voice. "What is this?" he asked, gesturing to the computer screen, where, to her horror, Isis could discern the lines of a poem she'd been working on before she'd fallen asleep the night before.

"Oh," she said hastily, trying to sound careless, "it's just—something—I was writing, nothing at all important, don't worry about it, I'll get it off the screen, I–"

"No, no, it's quite all right," said Boromir, smirking a little. "It's not badly written, you understand. I was just wondering how to get to the rest of the poem."

"You write poetry?" asked Pippin, wide-eyed. "You should show some of it to old Bilbo at home, he writes poetry too!" He and Merry stood on tiptoe to peer over Boromir's muscular shoulder.

"Poetry?" said Aragorn, getting up to look. "Let me see."

Isis groaned. The absolute last thing she needed was for them to read her work, but it was too late now. She leaned over on Boromir's right and scrolled down to the bottom of the page so he could finish reading.

"Wait," the Elfstone said protestingly. "I haven't finished."

"I'll read it aloud," said Boromir, still smirking. "Move back, everyone, so I can read." He turned to Isis. "I push this button where to move it down?"

Isis pointed it out with a sigh of "I am so dead", and Boromir began to read.

"But ever and anon the dream troubled me,

And I again would hear the voice whose source I could not see.

I took counsel with my brother, then, the second time it came,

And I told him of the voice which spoke of Isildur's Bane.

For a while there he sat, pondering my tale,

Wondering aloud what meaning it might unveil.

'For know you, Faramir,' he said, 'that little I know of lore,

'But this I know: the sword of thy dream dwelt long here in Gondor.'

'This I know also,' I said to him then, 'but who, think you, would know more?

Boromir looked at me and replied, 'Our father, Denethor.'

"We left the wall forthwith and went speedily toward the citadel,

And as we walked, we heard from the Tower the sound of a clear sweet bell.

Boromir and I looked up as one, to see the Tower shining bright;

A symbol of hope, a beacon to all, a counterpart to the Tower of Night.

Like a spike of pearl and silver, reflecting the bright rays of Anor,

Its white banners waving in the breeze, built by a king of Numenor.

And yet my heart was troubled, for I saw beyond the mask,

That my city's glory had been spent, its high days now long past.

Then in my eyes the city crumbled, falling at my feet,

And I heard as from far away the cruel, relentless beat

Of orc-drums, the sounds of war, and the harsh triumphant cries

Of orcs themselves, marching on the city under weeping skies.

And as I watched, I wondered, 'Why doth this vision to me appear,

And not to him who will be Steward, my brother Boromir?'

At once the answer came back to me, 'Because Gondor dost thou love best,

While Boromir keeps a warrior's heart beating within his breast.

An honourable man your brother is, but his place is not the throne;

If he lives till then, he shall give thee it, 'til the King come into his own.'"

"Now," said Boromir, turning to Isis, who was sitting on the bed with her hands over her face, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Which?" she asked sarcastically. "Having you read my _private writing_, or the writing itself?"

"Well, for one thing," said the Man, "if the writing concerns me, then it shouldn't be private–" ("I don't like that reasoning," Isis muttered rebelliously) "and for another—well, I'll leave the criticism of the poetry to the Elf, shall I?" He grinned and winked at Isis, who scowled ferociously back. "I myself think it's rather good, but the only way to find out whether it's historically _accurate_ would be to get the narrator's opinion, if you ask me."

"I didn't. And don't you _dare_ get Faramir to read this."

"Shut up, Isis," said Boromir cheerfully. "I am approximately twenty years older than you, which means that you have little to no control over my actions. My lord Glorfindel, your opinion, if you please?"


End file.
